


A Hard Place To Stay

by GhostPatrol



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake AH Crew, Irresponsible Driving, M/M, Making Out, all the ingredients to a wild friday night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostPatrol/pseuds/GhostPatrol
Summary: "How about you, then?""How about what?""Do you think you'd be happy?" Gavin pressed, the flecks of yellow in his irises burning like sparks. "If we hadn't met?"Michael can't always solve his problems with pipe bombs or expletives. Gavin can be helpful, in his own way.
Relationships: Gavin Free/Michael Jones, dw theres no cheating poly for the win babey, mentioned Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	A Hard Place To Stay

**Author's Note:**

> _So tie a rope around the sun, tie the end around my bed // My own personal savior for the victims in my head_ \- "Any Port" by Dead!

Since Michael had reached Los Santos and met the Fakes, his life had been pretty good. It wasn’t perfect, but hell, whose was? When he looked at what he had, now- a team, a roof over his head, a job that he loved and money in his pockets- he really couldn't complain. Most of the time, his life was great.

That being said? Some days fucking _sucked_.

It wasn't really that surprising. He'd always been like this, ever since he was a kid. He just got mad sometimes. Real fuckin pissed, for no good reason whatsoever. It wasn't like a new place, a new alias, and a few thousand bucks would just fix everything. His own fucked-up brain was bound to catch up with him, eventually.

No, what was confusing was that all of it- his job, his friends, his new life- almost made it worse. Not to say that he was upset about the situation itself. Far from it, actually. But it was just frustrating, in a way his old life hadn't been. He supposed that was because it just made sense, back then. He was in his twenties, shit-broke, stuck in a dead-end gig as an electrician with no plans, no aspirations, barely any friends. His life fucking sucked, so of course he'd be pissed about it. That was par for the course.

Now, though, his life wasn't shit. He was happy- or at least, he should be. He had everything he'd ever wanted. All the excitement and spontaneity he could handle, money and cool cars and a group of people he loved, who loved him back. Fuck's sake, he got to shoot people, blow shit up, and cause mayhem with his best friends for a living. He should be the happiest goddamn person on earth.

But some days, he just wasn't. Some days, like today, he was laying in a fuming pile on his bed, paralyzed by how much he hated everything in the world, losing his mind with anger over absolutely nothing. And that was the real kicker, when he thought about it. The fact that he could fix everything, make his life as amazing as it could be, and the universe would still find a way to kick him in the balls. Even now, he couldn't just be happy. Because that'd just be too easy, wouldn't it?

Almost on cue, his mental hurricane of self-loathing and miserable introspection was rudely interrupted by the sound of his bedroom door- which he could swear he’d locked- being thrown open. The carelessness and lack of warning told Michael who it was before any grating, British syllable could even make it to his ears.

"Michael!" Gavin called, chipper and sunny, and Michael could swear he'd never been so close to strangling the other boy in his life.

"Fuck off," he groaned, turning onto his side, refusing to give Gavin the satisfaction of full acknowledgment. He heard an offended squawk from behind him, and hoped that Gavin would take the hint and leave it at that.

If only he should be so lucky.

Instead, he heard the door close again, followed by a quiet _click!_ The ceiling light flicked on, and Michael practically hissed.

"Goddamn it!" he shouted, grabbing a pillow and chucking it blindly towards the other side of the room, pulling the other one up to cover his face. "Turn the fucking lights back off, asshole!"

Of course, Gavin ignored him. In less than five seconds, Michael heard a _hup_ , and the mattress dipped beneath the sudden weight of Gavin landing full-body beside him. He hit the blankets with a grunt, which dissolved into a small laugh. Another time, Michael might have found the other boy's antics amusing- maybe even cute. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to throw him out and slam the door in his face.

"I'm gonna kill you," he growled. "I'm actually gonna fucking kill you."

"What?" Gavin put on his playing-dumb voice, and Michael could feel him sitting up and leaning over his shoulder to try to meet his eyes. "Why would you say that, Michael?"

"Because I mean it, dumbass!" Michael snapped, throwing the pillow off his head and whacking Gavin in the face with it, receiving a shocked yelp in response. "Would it kill you to not be so goddamn obnoxious for once in your stupid fucking life?!"

Gavin frowned as he rescued his sunglasses from where they'd fallen on the mattress in Michael's pillow-based assault, replacing them on his head, but he only shrugged at the other boy's berating. "Probably."

Michael groaned, falling back down onto the bed, too exasperated to bother yelling anymore. He knew when he was fighting a losing battle.

"Would you just leave me alone? Please?"

"No!" It was apparently Gavin's turn to be irate. He pushed himself up onto his knees, crossing his arms and glaring down stubbornly at Michael. "You've been alone all day, Michael. You've hardly left your room all weekend!"

"I'm brooding," Michael replied tiredly, muffled as he turned to press his face into the mattress. "Let me brood."

"Absolutely not!"

Suddenly, Michael could feel Gavin's weight leaving the bed. There was a tugging on his leg, and before Michael could finish the instinctive string of expletives he was shouting in response, Gavin had pulled the sweatpants Michael was wearing off of him completely, dropping them on the floor.

"What the fuck, Gavin?!"

"Get dressed!" the brit demanded, looking rather proud of himself. "We're going out!"

"Like hell we are, asshole!" Michael snapped.

Gavin rolled his eyes and returned to the bed, seemingly unconcerned with any potential retaliation Michael might have in mind.

"Come on, Micool," Gavin whined, butchering his name in that way he knew only he could get away with. "You've been locked up in here for ages! I can't stand to see you all mopey anymore."

"You mean, you got bored," Michael said dryly. Gavin shrugged.

"Well- yeah, okay, that's part of it," he admitted. "But I'm also right! You can't stay in your room forever! You need fresh air, and sun!"

Michael glanced at the window. "The sun went down, like, an hour ago."

"...Just fresh air, then!" Resorting to drastic measures, Gavin threw himself onto Michael's shoulder, putting on the best puppy-dog eyes he could manage. "Please Michael? Just for a little while?"

Michael humored Gavin's staring contest for about three seconds, weighing his options. Then he slumped back against the headboard and sighed.

"If I do, will you leave me alone when we get back?"

Gavin nodded vigorously, already lighting up with the knowledge that he'd won. Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. He already regretted this.

"Fine."

After he finally managed to get Gavin out of his room, Michael begrudgingly threw on some clothes- he considered locking Gavin out and going back to bed, but knowing him, he'd just find Trevor and convince the younger boy to pick the lock for him. Trevor was concerningly easy to talk into things like that. So, against his better judgement, Michael simply got changed and made his way to the front room of the penthouse, where Gavin was already waiting for him. The other boy was perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, kicking his feet and staring down at his phone. He looked up and smiled when he heard Michael walk in.

"There you are! Thought you were gonna stand me up, boi."

"Yeah, whatever," Michael crossed his arms. "Where are we even going?"

"Don't know!" Gavin chirped happily, and Michael had to catch the keyring that Gavin flung at him without warning. "It's up to you!"

Michael glowered at him. "Seriously? All that to get me outside, and you didn't even think of something to do?"

"Would you have been happy with anything I picked?" Gavin replied pointedly.

"Whatever," Michael scoffed, choosing to ignore the fact that Gavin was probably right. "Let's just get this shit over with."

To Gavin's credit, the act of offering Michael access to his personal garage was a surprisingly generous one. They took the elevator down, and Michael took a moment to assess his options. The room was filled top to bottom with an array of gaudy vehicles, from chrome to neons to his signature gold. Michael felt like he'd get a headache just from standing in the room; eventually, he decided that a red 9F Cabrio was one of the least offensive items in the collection. Gavin didn't try to hide his disappointment in the decision, but climbed into the passenger seat regardless, on the condition that they pull the top down immediately.

"Won't you mess up your hair?" Michael pointed out as he pulled the car out of the garage.

Gavin shrugged. "Who cares?"

Michael thought about bringing up the fact that Gavin spent about fifteen minutes every morning just on his hair, gelling and combing it into some specific array of spikes that only he understood the purpose of, but then decided that it was probably pointless. He'd never met someone who managed to simultaneously care so much and yet so little about their appearance. It was almost impressive.

Michael took the first couple of minutes on the road to get accustomed to the car. He didn't have one like this; fancy sports cars were for people like Geoff, Gavin, and Jeremy. People who either loved cars, or loved expensive, flashy shit. Michael wasn't either of those. He didn't care about price tags or convoluted specs. If it had an engine and wouldn't explode if he touched it, he'd take it. That being said, he could still appreciate a nice car when he drove it, and this one was definitely not bad to handle. The turn and acceleration were smooth, and Michael found himself testing it, pushing faster or making quicker turns, seeing how much the car could handle. He didn't bother with conversation, and thankfully, Gavin didn't seem interested in making any, either. That was another strange thing about Gavin; the boy could ramble about nothing for hours on end, but he could also go for nearly a day without speaking a word, if he felt like it. He was a mess of tangled-up contradictions wrapped into the shape of a man. But then, Michael thought, maybe that was what he liked about him. He was weird, sure, but in an exciting, interesting way. He never knew what to expect out of Gavin. The more he thought about it, the more Michael realized that it was one of his favorite things.

Not that he'd ever tell him that- Gavin's ego was inflated enough.

"Where are we going, Michael?" he asked eventually, when they began to approach the county line. It was well into the night, but the sky still glowed with the city lights that pushed up from beneath it, warding off the cosmos with an artificial pulse.

"I don't know yet," he replied. "Where the wind fuckin' takes us, I guess."

"How romantic," Gavin cooed. Michael snorted and punched him in the arm.

"Dumbass."

True to his word, Michael drove them around aimlessly for another few minutes, weaving through back streets and intersections, until every street melted into each other, a monotonous blur of neon and grime. Despite the late hour, the streets were predictably crowded. If New York was the city that never sleeps, Los Santos was its coked-up insomniac cousin.

It wasn't until they were nearing the freeway that Gavin suddenly gasped and grabbed Michael's arm. Michael recognized the glint in his green eyes.

"Oh, god- you have an idea, don't you?"

"The _best_ idea," Gavin agreed, with a manic kind of grin that always preceded his idiotic schemes. Michael cocked an eyebrow.

Often, when Gavin had ‘ideas’, Michael could shut them down by refusing to hear him out. He found that the other boy often considered the attention he’d get for certain stunts the most worthwhile factor. But whether he was too tired to care or just itching for something stupid and exciting, Michael decided to humor him, at least for tonight.

"Care to explain?"

"I bet a thousand that you can't make it to Mount Chiliad by eleven."

Michael glanced down at the dash clock. 10:48.

"That's stupid," He told Gavin. "We'd have to go, like, twice the speed limit, non-stop to make it to Blaine County in time."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gavin rolled his eyes. "I forgot, I'm driving with Michael 'Road Safety' Jones. Wouldn't want a ticket, now, would we?"

"Alright, motherfucker- y'know what?"

Gavin always seemed to know what would push Michael's buttons in just the right way to make him do what he wanted. This was just another instance; before he could let himself think twice, Michael had his foot to the gas, and they were speeding through Little Seoul in a beeline for La Puerta freeway. He knew he was just giving Gavin what he wanted, but the shocked yelp he got out of the brit at his sudden acceleration was compensation enough.

From that point, the ride became a non-verbal affair. The rush of the wind and the roar of the engine was more than enough to drown out any attempts at speech, nevermind the addition of angry onlooker's horns and the squeals of tires and brakes. They tore across the county line like a missile on track to a target, ready to explode. Michael let the adrenaline consume his thoughts; the buzzing at his fingertips, the blood pounding in his ears, his heartbeat slamming into his bones. He knew every route to Mount Chiliad like the back of his hand on this point; he could make it there in his sleep.

With such a familiar route, Michael found his attention straying from the road. As they merged onto the Senora freeway, he caught a glimpse of the inner city from the distance, and suddenly, his earlier thoughts were clawing their way back into his mind. He thought about the people they were passing, the people they left behind in the city.

Thousands of people, just like him- except they weren't like him. They didn’t blow off steam with potentially deadly joy rides down the freeway. They didn't need to cause trouble, cause a scene everywhere they went, spread pain and death and fear through every person they saw just to feel something. They were normal. So how the fuck was he different? Why couldn't he be like them? Why couldn't this be enough? It wasn't fair, he thought, feeling not unlike a petulant child- it wasn't _fucking_ fair. The frustration, confusion, rage- it was all just too much, and all at once Michael- Michael just _screamed_.

It was low, at first; unsure. But then it was like the dam had snapped. A flood of everything, every thought and feeling he'd been shoving down for days, months, years, spilled out between his teeth. He cried it all out with all the air in his chest, like an exorcism, a purge, until his lungs begged for release and he could taste copper in his throat, letting the noise fall and fade on the deaf ears of a thousand distant lives.

When he stopped to breathe, he suddenly remembered that Gavin was there. He turned to the passenger seat. He wasn't sure what reaction he'd expected- maybe confusion, or even fear. But what he got was a wide, toothy grin. Before he could ask, Gavin was climbing out of his seat, unbothered by the neck-breaking speed with which they were hurtling down the highway. He sat himself on the edge of the side door, holding the headrest of the passenger seat for balance, and stuck one arm out into the open air. Michael watched him, almost awed; the wind lashed at his sandy blonde hair, tugged at the ends of his button-up blouse, and the rapidly passing street lights flickered in his eyes, tiny yellow sparks dancing in the dark of his pupil and the pale green of his iris. He'd never looked more at home; more alive.

And then, like Michael, Gavin screamed. With one hand reaching up into the sky, he filled his chest with air, and let it out in a full-body shout. No words, all meaning- not angry, like Michael's, but visceral with something that he couldn't put a name to. He almost wished he was better at that, at naming and detecting emotion, if only to decipher the sounds Gavin was hurling at the moon.

It was like that exchange had been some agreement between the two of them. Without coordination, they began to take turns screaming from the car as they tore across the county line, rivaling the sirens of police cars they'd lose with ease and the horns of bystanders who had to lurch out of the way. They must've carried on like that for miles, all the way to the mountain. What Michael would've paid to see themselves in that moment- whooping and hollering, howling like a pair of rabid wolves. A twin set of burning supernovas, ready to self-destruct and take this whole damn city down with them. Screaming into the night sky like they were daring the stars to scream back.

By the time they reached the mountain, they'd both begun to come down from the thrill, breathless and hoarse. As Michael eased off the gas to weave more carefully along the unpaved mountain path, Gavin fell back into his seat, gazing up at the sky in what looked like tired contentment. With the roar of the engine calmed to a steady purr, they let an easy silence settle in the space between them. Michael didn't even bother trying to reach the higher peaks of the mountain; a sports car could hardly make it halfway. Instead, he found a substantial cliff a short ways up, parking haphazardly near the base. As soon as the car came to a stop, Gavin was swinging the door open and climbing out. Michael waited, watching him as he sauntered off the path and into the thick grass between it and the edge of the cliffside, finding a clear spot and then promptly dropping like dead weight. Michael couldn't help the easy laugh that bubbled from his chest. He shut off the engine, finally leaving the car and moving to join him.

"Was that what you had in mind?" he asked, sitting beside Gavin in the grass. It was slightly damp, with late-night dew that was just beginning to settle. The smell of wet foliage grew stronger as the stench of burnt gasoline began to fade beneath it. The contrast was stark, but far from unwelcome. It always made him think of home, for some reason- springs and summers back in Jersey, late nights and early mornings in their tiny backyard. But the grass felt different, here. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

"No," Gavin laughed, breathy and light, propping himself up on his elbows. "That was much better." Gazing down at Gavin, Michael suddenly had an idea.

"Yeah?" he asked, leaning down. "How about this?"

Without further warning, he flipped over to straddle Gavin's waist. In a second, he had the smaller man's shoulders pinned down onto the grass, and their lips were locked together in a rough, deep kiss. Gavin hadn't expected this, but he fell into it with ease, pushing himself up against Michael so their bodies were flush, like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

This wasn't the first time they'd done this- it certainly wouldn't be the last. If Michael was honest, he wasn't really sure what he and Gavin were. They'd never discussed it. But Lindsay knew, and she didn't mind, and Gavin and Michael certainly didn't have any complaints with this unspoken arrangement. So, for the time being, they skipped the words and definitions. The feeling of Gavin's lips against his, his bare skin beneath Michael's wandering palms; that was all he needed to know.

They broke apart after a moment, just to catch their breath. Michael was sure he must look as smug as he felt.

"So?" Gavin hesitated for a moment. Michael felt a little proud at his ability to leave Gavin, of all people, speechless. Then the other boy’s brain seemed to catch up, and he snickered.

"I don't know," he said. "It'd probably be better if you weren't getting grass stains all over my favorite blouse."

Michael rolled his eyes. "You're such a fuckin' diva."

But neither of them could help the laughter that passed between their parted mouths as Michael leaned back down. They readjusted; Michael sitting back again, finding a nearby rock to rest against, while Gavin climbed on top. Michael's hands found a home in the dip of Gavin’s waist, and Gavin tangled his fingers through Michael's hair, his nails scraping over the scalp. They kissed and touched, exploring their bodies, but neither moved to undress. Surprisingly, Michael was grateful.

It wasn't that he didn't find Gavin sexy. Far from it. But tonight- he just couldn't do it tonight. He supposed there were some people that made themselves feel better with sex, but it never worked with him. If anything, it made him feel worse. He wasn't sure if Gavin knew that, or if he could just tell that Michael wasn't interested in going further, but either way, he didn't protest the lack of escalation. No, Michael thought; he didn't need sex. He just needed this- this was enough. The warmth of another body, the feeling of Gavin's heartbeats falling in time with his own. Enough sensation to distract, to lose himself between soft, swollen lips, steady fingertips, the smell of expensive cologne and the taste of gas-station gum. Contradictions, he was reminded- always contradictions. He grazed his teeth over Gavin's neck, relishing the feeling of wrapping his mouth around the delicate skin just above his collarbone- the feeling of control, of biting without breaking, of bruising just light enough to leave his mark on the other boy's body, not enough to make him hurt. Because that was really what it came down to, wasn't it? Control. He couldn't control how he felt, or how it affected him. But he could control this.

Gavin was the most complicated person Michael knew- but goddamn if loving him wasn't the easiest thing in the world.

They might've stayed like that for minutes or hours, Michael couldn't tell, and he didn't have it in him to care. When they finally had their fill of each other's breath, they laid back down in the grass, gazing up at the stars side by side, like some cheesy movie. They weren't far enough from the city to fully escape the light pollution, but it was enough to make a difference. He didn't think either of them knew much about the stars, really- but it was still nice to look at. A sea of white pin-pricks floating in endless black.

"Makes you feel small, doesn't it?" Gavin said, without turning away from the sky.

"What, space?" Michael frowned. "I guess."

"I mean- think about it! Millions of stars, light years worth of space, and here we are, tiny little things on a tiny little rock, in the middle of a tiny galaxy that's just one in a billion."

"Wasn't this whole thing supposed to make me feel better?" Michael drawled. Gavin laughed, sounding a little sheepish.

"Right, sorry..."

Michael reached up and picked a piece of grass out of the dirt, twirling it between his fingers. He could feel Gavin looking at him when he spoke again.

"So- what were you so upset about, anyway?" he asked. Michael sighed. He'd been hoping that Gavin would just let it be, but he supposed he should have known better.

"I don't know, man- a lot of shit," he said. He took a moment to think, and Gavin let him, waiting quietly for Michael to continue. "It's just... do you ever think about how your life would be different if you weren't... like this?"

"If I wasn't 'like this'?" Gavin repeated, sounding confused. "What's that mean?"

"I mean, like," Michael struggled to put his thoughts into words. "We're not normal, y'know? Normal people don't kill other people and blow shit up and rob banks for fun. We're fucked up, right?"

Gavin hummed like he hadn't considered that before. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"I guess I just can't stop thinking, lately, like... what if I was normal? What if I didn't choose this kind of life? What if I'd stayed in Jersey, stayed with my family, had a normal job?"

_Would I have finally been happy?_

He couldn't finish the question out loud, for some reason. It echoed against his skull.

Gavin was quiet for a long moment. Michael spared a glance in his direction. His eyes were narrowed, brow furrowed. He looked like he was thinking hard.

"...Well, I think that would be rubbish, wouldn't it?"

Michael was caught off guard by how sure Gavin's response was. "What?"

Gavin shrugged. "I dunno, I just... I think about what my life would've been like if I hadn't been the way I am, and I probably would have stayed in England. I never would've moved here, I never would've met Geoff. I never would've met you," he flicked his gaze towards Michael pointedly, meeting his eyes, smiling. "And that sounds like a pretty sorry alternative to this, doesn't it?"

Michael could feel a flush building in his cheeks. He hoped the night was too dark for Gavin to pick it out.

"You sound so fuckin' cheesy right now," he said, ignoring the question. Gavin laughed.

"How about you, then?"

"How about what?"

"Do you think you'd be happy?" Gavin pressed, the flecks of yellow in his irises burning like sparks. "If we hadn't met?"

"How would I know, genius?" Michael shot back.

"Don't you'd think there'd be, like, an empty space? Like there was something missing?"

Michael scoffed. "I don't fuckin' know, dude. There's literally no way to tell something like that."

Gavin frowned. He pushed himself up slightly on his elbows, staring at Michael like he was solving a puzzle. "Well... are you happy now?"

Michael paused, sitting up as well. "Am I happy?"

"Yeah, I mean..." Gavin pursed his lips, then averted his eyes, as if he was embarrassed. "Are you happy? Here, with me?"

Michael stared at Gavin for a long moment. He thought about the night to this point, then about his life since he'd met Gavin. He thought about Jersey, about his family, and then about the gang, about all their heists and the fuck ups and successes in between. He thought about street lights and neon and the smell of wet grass. Finally, he sighed, and he reached out to take Gavin's hand in his own. Like a reflex, Gavin moved to hold it back, intertwining their fingers with ease. He followed the path of veins in Michael's hand with his thumb without looking. He'd done it so many times, he could trace them in his sleep.

"To be honest, Gavin?" Michael said, quiet and a little rough. "I don't know. I don't know if I'm happy. I don't know if I ever have been, and I sure as hell don't know if I ever will be."

He saw Gavin's face fall in his peripheral, but he didn't let go of his hand. Instead, he brought it upwards, pressing Gavin's knuckles to his lips.

"...But I think," he continued, glancing back up to meet green, yellow-flecked eyes. "I think I could be. And I'm gonna try."

Gavin blinked, as if processing Michael's words. Then, he smiled, small but warm, his eyes glowing with something earnest and bright.

"Good enough for me," he said, as if it was the most simple thing in the world, and then he laid back down. Michael hesitated, but then followed suit. And that's where they spent the rest of the night- side by side in the grass, fingers intertwined, staring up at the sky.

Michael thought hard about Gavin’s words. He glanced to the side, caught a glimpse of the other boy- silent and content, staring up at the cosmos with a smile on his face. _Good enough_ , he’d said. Laying in the wet grass, Michael realized- maybe he had a point. He wasn’t sure if he was happy. He wasn't sure if he would ever be _truly_ , undoubtedly happy. But maybe- maybe that was okay.

Maybe this was good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I blacked out for two days and when I woke up I had this in my docs. Comments and kudos are appreciated <333


End file.
